


The Devil You Know

by Loki_Laufeyson



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, I wrote this a very long time ago so forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 09:42:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Laufeyson/pseuds/Loki_Laufeyson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if it was Jim Moriarty that brought Harold Saxon to power?</p><p>A meeting of unstable minds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil You Know

**Author's Note:**

> Faustian pact: a deal with the Devil.

"It's taken me a very long time to find you."

"I hardly let anyone get this close but you're a very persistent man, Harold Saxon."

"The Master. I'm the Master."

"So I've heard." Jim picks up a file and flicks through it lazily, though it is all for show – as most things he does are- he has already memorised every word in that file, "You're a time lord."

The Master cocks his head, as if assessing an opponent, sizing up his prey, "I am."

"There isn't much information on you, Master." Jim lets the name roll of his tongue like an insult, despising the title and its implications (Jim will bow to no demi-god), but this alien has power Jim could only dream of, and he wants it (wants to touch and taste and own and _mine, mine, mine_ ), "Torchwood knows a lot more about another. Enemy of the Earth. Murderer. Hated. Mistrusted. The Doctor."

The Master's brow furrows. The Doctor is the hero. Saviour of the universe, king of sacrifice, bearer of justice. It appears the humans have a different idea. Suddenly the Masters face transforms, a look of glee shining behind his eyes, a smile upon his lips.

"You have the Doctor's TARDIS?" Jim asks, dismissing the Master's jubilation ( _sudden erratic mood changes, doesn't he remind you of someone, Jim?_ ), though he already knows the answer. 

"The Doctor's TARDIS." The Master repeats with a sneer (this is where they differ at least, Jim's face is a weapon, a gun to be cocked. The Master's is a landmine, explosive, unpredictable, destructive and giving himself away) but he soon settles back into his chair- when he realises he won't have the satisfaction of this human's shock or horror- saying, "Yes, I have it."

"Then why would you need my help? It's a time machine. You have the ultimate weapon at your disposal to find your Doctor." Jim's voice is a monotone, dull and business like. This is his least liked mask, this straight-faced-no-shit-droning-voice criminal, but a necessary one when confronting those as poisonous as himself. Give nothing away. 

"The Doctor did something to her, trapping me here." He returns ( _back and forth, back and forth_ ) , voice dripping in, drowning in contempt. 

He knows he doesn't have much room to judge, doing what he does, being what he is ( _mad, dangerous, mad, constant, endless scratching in your skull, scratching, needs to be itched_ ) but there is something unsettling about this man ( _because he is so much like you?_ ). His chosen name, the Master. The way he speaks, voice laced with a frenzied malice, Jim thinks he should be standing on a street corner preaching fire and brimstone. But most of all, since he was walked into this room, the way he has been tapping out a beat. An endless repetitive beat that he seems to have tuned out completely.

"I can't help you with your machine, so what exactly do you want, Mr. Saxon?"

The Master's eyes narrow at the name but he seems to let it go, "If I cannot reach the Doctor, I must get him to come to me."

"He seems to be perpetually drawn to this timeline, it says his companions live here, you are as good as guaranteed to run into him soon." Jim is almost surprised -almost because he is never truly surprised- with the words forming on his should-be silver tongue. The Master can give him alien technology, he would have more power than he could use, but he is steering him away with his careful words ( _you're not scared are you, Jim?_ ).

"It's not enough to just run into him, Moriarty. I need to have the advantage, and the TARDIS just isn't enough. Not anymore" The Master is tapping the beat on Jim's desk with an increased vigour ( _it sounds like a heartbeat, frantic, desperate_ ), leaning forward with eyes boring, searing into the man across from him, "He has beat me time and time again. _Murdered_ me over and over. There is only one way I can do it; I need to hold a position of power on your Earth. I want to be your leader."

 _I want to be your leader_. ( _different kinds of mad, at least, at least you have that_ )

Jim knows it will be quite the task- who would ever trust this mad man enough to elect him as anything- but not impossible. And to have someone he controls (pulling the strings he sewed beneath the Master's skin) in a position of power in the government would be an advantage to him, but Jim does not want to let him know that yet, "I think what you're looking for is a campaign manager. I am not going to be the one sticking up posters for you."

"I can make it worth your while." ( _This is what you want, Jim._ ) "I have Time Lord technology."

Finally, Jim lets a smile blossom at his new business partner, "I believe I can help you, Master. There's someone you'll need to talk to, a Professor. Professor Richard Lazerus."

A grin spreads across the Master's face, his smile as sharp as the edge of a knife (and Jim has to wonder how quickly that knife would slit his throat. As quick as he would do it back, he supposes). The look that burns behind his eyes is animalistic and as Jim shakes his hand, sealing his Faustian pact, he is forced to- for the first time in his criminal career- crush a fleeting feeling of doubt. The feeling that he is making a terrible mistake.

Soon enough, any fears are drowned out to a frantic beat. To the sound of drums.


End file.
